


kin of my kin

by spock



Category: Dominion (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Codependency, Emotional Baggage, Loyalty, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Possessive Behavior, Power Imbalance, Praise Kink, Prophetic Visions, Redemption, Road Trips, Season/Series 03, Telepathic Bond, Trust Issues, Voice Kink, Yuleporn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:35:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28206210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spock/pseuds/spock
Summary: Rhetorical questions.Gabriel ventures closer to them, shrugging off his jacket and handing it to Lucifer.I hope you're happy, Michael. Can't say I missed this.
Relationships: Alex Lannon & Gabriel & Michael, Gabriel & Lucifer & Michael (Dominion & Legion), Gabriel/Michael (Dominion)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 16
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	kin of my kin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [days4daisy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/days4daisy/gifts).



> If I had my way, this is exactly how the first one or two episodes of season three would've played out. Also, the part of [Lucifer](https://arthistoryproject.com/site/assets/files/11712/alexandre_cabanel-fallen_angel-1847-obelisk-art-history-1.jpg) would've gone to [one man](https://nerdist.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/09/toby-stephens-black-sails.gif). I hope you enjoy, recip!

Though darkness no longer assumes control over the mass of Gabriel's body, Michael can tell the lingering vestiges of it still plague his mind, the torture of Julian's words a wound that refuses to scar. Feelings of jealousy and abandonment manifest inside of his brother without Gabriel’s control, as they are now, born out of hurt Michael himself caused. It had been he who created the opening which that darkness was able to fester into and take root. Damage done.

Michael's attention is torn between Alex, standing at the front of the room, and his brother at his side. The two of them have their backs to the wall, watching Alex command what remains of Vega's leaders. Pride wars with guilt within him, Gabriel's brooding a heavy weight along their bond.

 _Brother_ , he thinks. Gabriel's chin tilts up, his gaze flicking to the side to meet Michael's eye. Affection wells within Michael. He is mindful to never take for granted the novelty of having his brother returned to his side after nearly three decades apart, each year an agonizing millennia in its own right.

Reunited, their separation now feels to him a blur, the only moments of note being those marked by their sporadic, clandestine meetings, and the milestones of Alex's youth. Gabriel's eyebrow arches. "I love you," Michael says.

He speaks it aloud because he knows actions matter more to Gabriel than words these days. The humans close enough to hear begin to shift awkwardly, looking over their shoulders at the pair of them. Michael does not mind. The previously apathetic line of Gabriel's mouth pulls to the left, growing and growing until the blinding shape of his smile is revealed. Gabriel’s eyes return to the crowd just as the length of his shoulders relax, weight removed.

The meeting comes to an end. Some in the room step forward, seeking a private audience with Alex. The rest file out, steps maintaining a wide arch from where Michael and his brother stand. "I quite like that they still fear me," Gabriel says, eyes tracking those exiting through the door.

Michael steps forward, blocking Gabriel's view. "Stop antagonizing them." It is difficult to keep the fondness from his tone. "This is your home, now, too. Your people."

Gabriel's hand comes up, his thumb tracing the line of Michael's jaw. "My home is where you are, brother." He pushes forward from the wall, bringing their chests together. His other hand rests against Michael's heart, Gabriel’s palm warm through the fabric of his shirt. "And, as your boy says, we are not meant for Vega much longer."

He steps to the side of Michael and leaves the room. Michael catches Alex's eye over the shoulder of the women he is speaking with, nodding before he goes to follow Gabriel. "Where are you going?"

"Can you not sense it?" There is a mocking current that runs through Gabriel's voice, rueful. There was a time where no thought existed within the confines of their mind that the other was not privy to. Each move predicted and known as surely as if they'd willed it into action themselves. Michael's decision to seal himself from Gabriel all those years ago now stands as a barrier they are unsure of how to deconstruct. A once fluid exchange, now requiring intent.

Regret and shame lick like flames at Michael's heart. "You know that I cannot," he says. "Will you tell me?"

Gabriel stops in the middle of the hallway, looking up at him. "It isn't a riddle, brother." He takes Michael's hand, lacing their fingers together. "My movements are rather limited in this city of yours. My options are your nest, or wherever it is your boy has decided to hold court. Have a guess where I’m off to next."

Michael frowns, tightening the knot of their fingers. "It is for your safety," he says. "Until the citizens of Vega realize that you are no longer their foe."

With a shake of his head, Gabriel laughs, hollow and disbelieving. "Well, we do know that humans are known for their inability to keep hold of a grudge." He steps away, loosening his grip as he returns to his journey.

Michael keeps firm, not letting go of Gabriel's hand.

Their path to the tower is marked with aborted looks. Guards and staff do everything they can not to spare a second glance toward their clasped hands, hanging in the air between their bodies as they walk down the length of the hallway. Their discomfort inspires amusement from Gabriel, gently flooding their bond, though Michael himself is more understanding.

There is no means by which these mortals can fathom the bond between Gabriel and he; the depth of their need for one another. Their connection. It does not help that the citizens of Vega come from a culture so far removed from what Father created thousands of years ago in a land so far away from their own. Michael can muster little more than pity that they will never know what it is to have someone as dear to them as Gabriel is.

With the door of Michael's nest closed behind them, Gabriel falls onto the mattress, levelling Michael a look. "You know what they say about you, don't you, brother?"

Michael sits on the raised bench circling their bed and begins to undo the laces of Gabriel's shoes. "I'm not certain that I care." He pulls one of Gabriel's boots free, settling it down onto the floor. "Though I'm quite sure you'll tell me anyhow."

"Cock whipped."

As their father's voice, Gabriel was always the first of them to master mankind's languages, effortlessly picking up dialects as civilizations rose and fell. Armed with the full breadth of creation's tongues, Gabriel never fails to disappoint in his word choice.

"By your own brother," Gabriel continues, rolling onto his side as Michael rests his other boot on the floor next to its twin. "Absolutely scandalous, though I'm sure they wouldn't put it past we angels. Father's book did outline some rather salacious things, did it not it, Michael?"

He joins Gabriel on the bed, kneeling over Gabriel's prone form, raised on his hands and knees. "Are you certain those did not spring forth from your own wicked tongue, brother?"

Their creation saw them brought into existence in the same instant, yet the softness of Gabriel's heart has always left Michael feeling the older. To that end, twin fires burn within him: a need to see Father's will done, and to see that Gabriel never suffers. To never displease him. Michael's first instinct in that instant had been to cry out into the darkness, seeking Gabriel. He'd yearned for his brother before he'd even known their father existed.

It's never felt blasphemous, not with Gabriel serving as their father's messenger. His voice. The love of their father was something learned; their need for one another, innate.

"I think I liked this body of yours better when you styled your hair long." Gabriel's fingers rub against Michael's temples, teasing along his hairline.

Passion wells inside of Michael, burning his lungs. His existence is one of extremes, incapable of experiencing the nuances of emotion that Gabriel navigates so effortlessly.

"Oh?" Gabriel's tone is pleased. "Did I hit a nerve?"

Between gritted teeth, Michael says, "There is no form which you might take that would not please me."

A delighted laugh springs forth from Gabriel's lips. His hands settle at Michael's neck, fingers lacing at his nape. "Michael," his name is purred, ingulgence turned to sound. Revelation. "You romantic." Gabriel pulls.

Michael comes to him, elbows bending until their mouths collide. Michael shares his passion with his brother, chest pressing Gabriel down into the mattress, Michael wanting nothing more than to disappear inside of him. For them to cease in being two halves of one soul, and instead returned to the single being they once were.

Someone clears their throat near the door. Michael knows in an instant that it is Alex. He makes to turn and look at his child, to see what Alex needs, but Gabriel catches his bottom lip between his teeth, a sharp bite of pain that Michael does not mind in the slightest. They stare at one another, panting into each other's mouths.

 _I'll go mad_ , Gabriel thinks.

Michael delivers a kiss so gentle that Gabriel forgets himself, teeth releasing so that he might moan instead.

 _That ship has sailed_ , Michael teases, rising to sit up onto his knees, long torso twisting to look at Alex. "You did well," he says.

Alex steps farther into the room. "Yeah, well," his voice trails off as his eyes quickly dart to Gabriel splayed out on his back, Michael sitting on his legs. "I wish you would've told me _that_ was something I'd have to deal with if Gabriel stayed." He nods at where Gabriel's hands have settled onto Michael's thighs, fingers walking along the muscle. "I might not have agreed to his pardon, had I’d known."

Gabriel's head tilts to the side, tracking Alex as he nervously paces in front of the bed. "Oh come now, little Alex," he says. "Michael and I were once the same being. It's essentially masturbation."

 _Gabriel_.

Hands fall from Michael's body, Gabriel's head lolling to stare up at the ceiling. "Yes, alright, dear." He gets up onto his elbows, toppling Michael off of him as he bends his knees, pulling his legs away. "Not in front of the child."

He rises from the bed and walks towards Alex, looking down at him from the slope of his nose. Michael watches them, not so much nervous as he is enthralled. He isn't sure that he'll ever grow used to seeing the two of them together.

The three of them, on the same side at last. There are times where Michael's heart aches for what might have been, had Gabriel and he been united from the start. He aches for Alex most of all, denied the blessing that is Gabriel's love. How he had been forced to make do with Michael's own awkward attempts at paternal attention, far less suited to it than Gabriel.

"Was there something you needed?" Gabriel asks. "Or did you stop by to ensure your father's supposed chastity remains intact?"

"He's not my father."

Gabriel sucks on his teeth, a sound that never fails to raise Alex's hackles. "Semantics."

"Stop." Michael's voice is firm.

Both Alex and Gabriel turn to look at him, unimpressed.

"Well, you've managed to get in your daily jab at Michael's feelings." Gabriel says it like it's passe, a given. He hates that Gabriel knows just how deeply it weighs on him when Alex denounces their relationship.

Alex, to his credit, winces, guilt colouring every line of him. Gabriel smirks, and carries on. "How about you tell us why you're here, my darling nephew?"

Alex steps away, putting space between Gabriel and himself. He walks closer to Michael on the bed, hands settling on his hips. "We're going to be burning the dead once the sun sets," he says. "I thought you might like to be there."

Michael stands, stepping off the dais and onto the floor. Alex is so small next to him, looking unsure. Amongst all the lives that have been lost, this will serve as Claire's funeral as well. He places his hand on Alex's shoulder, squeezing. "Of course I'll be there." His gaze catches Gabriel's over Alex's shoulder. "Gabriel as well."

Gabriel rolls his eyes even as he yet ventures closer, standing at Alex's other side. Alex hunches in on himself, face tilted down at the floor. Michael has a difficult time reading the mood on Gabriel's face as he looks at Alex.

"The nice thing about knowing that angels exist," Gabriel begins, and even though his eyes are trained on Alex's slumped form, his words seem directed elsewhere. "Is that heaven is at least seemingly confirmed, wouldn't you say, Michael?"

It is a surprising kindness, one he does not often expect from Gabriel. "Yes," he agrees.

Alex looks to Gabriel. Some unknown conversation passes between them before Alex nods, something decided. He turns back to look at Michael. "The ceremony should start in about an hour," he says. "I'll see you there."

Michael watches him leave the room. Alex doesn't shut the door behind him, which causes Gabriel to laugh, even as he moves to see it closed in Alex's wake, hand resting against the wood once his task is completed.

"Gabriel —"

"Children need stories, Michael." Gabriel levels him with a wistful smile, cast over his shoulder. He turns completely, resting his back against the door. "You'll have to take my word for it."

A smile creeps to the corner of Michael's lips. He fights to keep his expression solemn as he advances towards Gabriel. "When have I ever doubted your advice, brother?"

Gabriel does a much better job at looking unimpressed. "When? I wonder." He tilts his face away as Michael's leans in, refusing him.

Michael closes his eyes and stays where he is, an act of faith, and is rewarded by his brother's benevolence when lips press against his.

The gift of prophecy has never been one extended to Michael. His was an existence based on direction. Tests with which he has to bear the consequence of either having passed or failed. His siblings have often said that he lacks imagination, and Michael has yet to find fault in their assessment, even though he would not categorize his disinclination towards creativity as a lack of something, per se. Certainly not with Gabriel at his side, who himself is well-suited to divining, so much so that he often rivalled their sister in the act.

Michael has been slow and oftentimes reticent to listen to his brother's guidance, yet it is a rare time indeed when his brother's interpretations of the world have failed to hold at least some grain of truth or insight.

As angels they do not sleep so much as rest. Michael can feel it when his brother slips from the physical plane of his body's existence and into that which gives him the ability for prophecy. He lays his hand flat on his brother's chest, anchoring him.

What were once vibrant sounds of life below have become the quiet tones of a city in mourning, so many lives lost. There were countless times where Michael himself was the cause of such grief, exerting his father's will, and as such he struggles to feel a connection with the citizens of Vega and this tragedy which he played no part in, the violence senseless and thus beyond his comprehension. There is guilt he feels for having failed to save the lives of the souls lost, but it does not compare to the relief of Gabriel and Alex and he having succeeded in surviving where so many of others failed. His brother is whole and home in Michael's bed, and Michael would not change it for anything.

Gabriel's eyes flutter open. A frown cuts across his face.

"What did you see?" Without their father around to speak, there is little question in Michael’s mind of who it is that has sent visions for his brother to give voice to. "Do you think he has truly risen?"

A leg is cast over his own, Gabriel turning onto his side, curving into Michael's body. "It has been quite a while since I've felt jealousy from you, brother." Gabriel's nose brushes his, their faces brought close. "Does even the thought of our dear brother hold such sway over your mood?"

Michael never made a secret of his dislike for the bond Gabriel held with their eldest brother. He did not question why Lucifer would take Gabriel as his favourite, Michael’s own predilections on the subject quite clear. It was their mutual sense of appreciation for one another, the thought of Gabriel as part of a pair with any other than himself, which had Michael prone to rage. It had not taken much for Michael to see the deed done, once their father's favour had turned from Lucifer. 

Michael loved Lucifer, yes, but in the end his own wrath helped to guide his sword just as much as Father's direction had.

To the same affect, it'd been Michael’s love and tenderness towards Gabriel that had stayed his hand when the time came to destroy Lucifer's body. There had been real fear in him, then. An aching worry that ridding the universe of their brother's soul would be the one action Gabriel would never forgive him, even as his brother had been at Michael’s side in enacting their father's plan.

Time soon enough will tell if his eternal deference to Gabriel's feelings will be the undoing of them all.

Even with all that has transpired in the millennia since, Michael cannot find it within himself to question his decisions. There is no regret to be found in attempting to ensure Gabriel's happiness.

Not for Michael.

"What did you see?" he asks again.

Gabriel's hand settles on his cheek. Michael shuts his eyes, closing himself to all but to his brother's voice. "Father would have known," Gabriel says. "Maybe it was his plan all along. The Morning Star returned, whilst Father stands absent. The marking on your child's body an augury of what shall come to pass."

It is to be how it was, then, Michael thinks. Secrets shared between Lucifer and his brother that neither of them cares to see passed down to him.

"What do you think we should do then, brother?" After having taken so much from Gabriel, Michael is willing to follow his guidance on this, knowing that above all else, his own view of Lucifer is one tainted.

"I believe we should find him." Gabriel's lips brush his cheek. "And I do not believe him to be far."

Alex is not pleased to hear of their planned departure. Michael gives up on attempting to explain around the third time that Alex shouts at him.

"I just don't understand." Alex is pacing in what has become his chambers, the memories of the Riesen family still lingering in the corners of every room. "How does you leaving make the city safer?"

He can feel Gabriel's excitement thrumming through his blood. His agitation. Michael breathes in deeply, settling himself, trying to kindle his own emotions, his endless patience for his child. "We can't afford to be on the defensive," he says. "Not with Lucifer. If it does turn out that he wishes you ill, it will be better for us to confront him on our own terms."

"How can you keep saying _if_?" Alex spits. "Since when does the fucking devil have good intentions?"

Michael remembers how young Alex is, then. "You do not know him as I do," he says. "You don't know him at all. Our brother loved mankind more than any of us. It is he that was gifted the power of creation by Father. Gabriel believes that perhaps he is the one that can bring our father back from wherever he has disappeared to."

Alex snorts. "Oh, well if _Gabriel_ believes it."

They stare at one another, at an impasse. Michael realizes that Alex's frown is an exact duplicate of his own. It eases some of the tension from his body.

Alex's gaze doesn't waver as Michael walks closer to him, settling his hands on Alex's shoulders. "Should Lucifer's intentions be set towards ill deeds, I will see to it that he is stopped," he promises. "Alex, the time is coming for you to lead these people from the comforts and safety of Vega. You must consolidate your power, and we both know it will be a much easier task without Gabriel and myself drawing attention at your side."

The man reverts to the boy Michael once knew, right before his eyes. Insecure. Scared. "How in the hell am I meant to know where to lead them?" Alex asks.

“I will return before the hour of your departure.” Michael brings the back of his hand to Alex's cheek. “You are not alone, Alex," he smiles.

Alex sniffs, turning his face from Michael's hand. "Yeah, well," his voice seems to trail off, not having planned a destination. "Let me know if you see Noma, I guess."

It's isn't nearly as nonchalant as Alex likely intended. "I will," Michael promises. "Lucifer believes in balance, Alex. I am sure that he wishes for Father to be returned to this world as much as any of us."

His certainty is not at all returned by Alex's expression. "Well," he says, "I hope you're right."

Flying with Gabriel has always been a test in patience. His brother loops around him, occasionally rising above the clouds, away from Michael’s sight, only to drop like a stone far ahead, cackling. There are times where he will move below Michael, belly to belly, matching the rhythm of their wings.

Michael stares passively into his brother's eyes, doing everything he can to keep from letting the mask of his face crack. “What are you doing?”

Gabriel is much freer with his joy. His nose scrunches up from the force of his smile, and he reaches up to take Michael's hand into his. “Do you think we look to be a seraph?” he asks. “To those so tragically tethered to the earth below?”

Surprise, though not panic, flashes across his brother's face as Michael yanks him forward by the connection of their hands, their bodies colliding. Michael rolls them in the air, spinning Gabriel around. He cannot keep the smile from his face at the sound of Garbriel's delighted shouts.

They're above a mountain range, and it is easy for Michael to bring them down upon one of there cliffs, twisting a final time so that it is his back which touches down onto the snowbank covering it, Gabriel's weight a warm, heavy presence atop him.

One after the other, their wings retract. Gabriel's hair falls into his eyes; they are close enough that it too grazes Michael's cheek. “Michael,” he says, awed, “You are wonderful.”

Pleasure manifests itself along the length of his spine, extending out every which way, from his feet all the way to his fingertips, and if Michael had less control he is sure that his wings would manifest despite himself. ”Stop.”

Awe turns into something much more sinister. “Why?” Gabriel does not bother to mask the taunting lilt of his voice in the slightest. “You're so perfect, Michael.” He tightens his grip on Michael's hand, his other coming up to stroke a finger along the edge of Michael's jaw. “So good.”

Gabriel's praise exists as a causality dilemma. The bond between them is such that they cherish the opinions of one another above all else, and it is why Gabriel has served as Michael’s conscience for all these years, why it is so difficult for Michael to oppose him, or fail to heed his counsel entirely. Yet Gabriel's role as Father's mouthpiece has always added an extra complication to things, as direction from their father has always come to Michael by way of his brother's lips, and thus it is as if any kind word spoken by Gabriel might very well have come from Father as well.

In all this time, Michael has yet to discover which of the two lies as the source of the maddening, primitive reaction that Gabriel’s praise inspires within him.

Still, for all that Gabriel has learned to be vengeful, Michael has always felt that it is proof of the true loving nature at the core of Gabriel’s being that this is one skill which he does not use against Michael in malfeasance.

Michael is not quite as certain that he would have such restraint, were the tables turned and he was the one with such leverage over Gabriel.

He arches from the snow, gasping against Gabriel's lips. “Don't,” he begs, already feeling as if he's teetering on the edge of madness, especially after having gone without his brother's approval for such a span that he'd nearly forgotten what it was to have it, every inch of his being alight with Gabriel's affirmation.

“Look at you.” Gabriel rises onto his hands and knees, staring down at Michael as if they haven't known one another since before even the dawn of their creation, face alight with the awe of discovery. “You are magnificent, brother.”

Michael surges up, taking Gabriel's face between his hands as he kisses him, licking into his brother's mouth. Gabriel remains where he is, steady as he hovers above him, calm and patient in the face of Michael's manic need. Michael brings his legs up to wrap around Gabriel's hips, desperate to see more connection between their bodies, a strange sense of rage brewing alongside his need.

In the back of his mind he registers a piercing whistle, but it isn't as important as the feel of Gabriel's skin against his palms, the press of their hips, as Michael clings to him.

Gabriel twists his head, and Michael focuses on the access it gives to his neck, licking the taunt line of it. “Michael,” Gabriel's sweet voice calling his name is torture, and Michael moans in blissful agony at it.

His brother makes a noise, low in his throat, and then his body is lowering down, covering Michael's. It's bliss. Michael drops back to the snow, briefly satisfied. He opens his eyes, the white of their surroundings blinding, yet only serving to illuminate the technicolour vividness of his brother glowing above him. He licks his way up the length of Gabriel’s neck, feeling Gabriel's voice reverberate against his tongue when he speaks, "I think it's happened."

Michael drags a hand down Gabriel's back, tugging at his jacket, thinking how ridiculous it is that they bother with clothes, the injustice of Gabriel's body being separated from his own, when Michael so desperately needs him.

"Michael," Gabriel calls to him again, sounding far too amused for how utterly devastated Michael feels at this moment. "Be a good boy for me." Michael’s very soul sings as the backs of Gabriel's fingers stroke against his cheek. "Listen to what I'm saying."

"I am." He pushes Gabriel's coat from his shoulders, pleased when Gabriel cooperates by shifting onto first one arm and then the other, letting it pool around their legs once Michael’s freed him of it. "What's happened?" His fingers twist in the hem of Gabriel's shirt, pulling it over arms, Gabriel's head disappearing for a moment as Michael casts it off of him and into the snow.

"Lucifer." Gabriel's words are said as if they are an indulgence, guiding Michael along to an obvious answer. "I believe him returned."

Michael's teeth sink into the pristine flesh of Gabriel's shoulder. It has only been within the past decade that Michael has learned what it is to draw blood from his brother with empyrean steel; it is beyond gratifying to return to so much more a satisfying a manner of attack.

His focus narrows to the feeling of Gabriel surging against him, sounds of pleasure dripping through his brother’s lips. "Why, Michael," Gabriel's voice is no different from a purr, his legs spreading, changing the angle of Michael's hips cradled beneath his own. "I believe you said that was no longer an issue?"

"It is of no matter," Michael insists. He raises up onto an arm, fighting to rid himself of his own jacket. Gabriel moves to sit on his haunches, the firm press of him an exquisite agony in Michael's lap.

His jacket joins the pile at their waists, shirt tossed in the same direction that Gabriel's been sent. "And what of our mission?" Gabriel asks it with the detached interest of an academic, a question that he has no vested interest in the answer to.

"It can wait."

His fingers undo first his belt and then Gabriel's, casting their swords off as well. They have to break apart to get their pants undone, but Michael makes up for the loss of contact by rekindling their kiss, licking into his brother's mouth as their knuckles brush in their haste to undo their flys, standing on their knees in the snow as they untangle the laces of their boots, kicking off their pants.

Michael returns Gabriel to his rightful place atop of him once they're exposed to the elements, craving the heat of him, running his hands over every inch of skin available to him as his knees rediscover their home against Gabriel's hips.

"I feel as if I am duty-bound to point out that this is something of a time-sensitive affair, brother," Gabriel says. Yet he brings a hand to his mouth, making a show of dragging his tongue from his wrist to his fingers. It disappears from view between their stomachs as he wraps it around Michael's cock.

They stare into one another's eyes as Gabriel's hand begins to stroke, his thumb and forefinger playing with the skin at Michael's head. "I've never understood," Michael cuts himself off with a moan, letting his knees fall to the ground as Gabriel's hand releases him, dipping down to find a home at the centre of him. He licks his lips, sucking in air that his body does not need, anything to ground himself. "How it is that you keep such command on yourself?"

Three of Gabriel's fingers enter him, drawing forth pleasures that he alone has dominion over within Michael's body. His nose drags against Michael's cheek, teeth scraping the cut of Michael's jaw. "Surely you know," he says, "How I lust for you, Michael? Constantly, endlessly, with every inch of my being." He pulls away, staring down into Michael's eyes, a wistful twist to his mouth. "How am I meant to be consumed with desire for you, when desiring you is my default state?"

"Then have me." His very soul aches with need for Gabriel, fury licking at Michael’s bones in want of him.

_Give yourself to me._

It comes together for Michael then, the origins of his wrath.

Peace settles in his mind as the wall between Gabriel and himself comes down at last, Michael giving everything of himself to his twin. The pleasures of their physical state fall ancillary to that which comes from the connection of their minds.

He experiences the act of their lovemaking twice fold: Gabriel's cock entering him, the feel of himself around Gabriel's cock; the sharp bite of his nails as they tear down the length of Gabriel's back, causing Gabriel's wings to spring forth, Michael's own fanning out into the snow beneath him; an endless loop between the singular manifestation of their conjoined minds, possession and ownership given and taken until it's been transubstantiated into divinity.

Gabriel comes within him. For the first time in twenty-six years, they experience the presence of their father.

Michael chases after the feeling, utilizing his wings to thrust forth from the ground. He pins Gabriel beneath him, slicking himself with Gabriel's come already leaking down onto his thighs, pressing into Gabriel's body. No warning is given, nor is it needed, as it is Gabriel's will guiding Michael just as much as it is Michael own.

He hooks Gabriel's knee over his shoulder, rutting into him, frantic. Gabriel wishes to be kissed, and so Michael wishes it as well, seeing it done, bending down and swallowing Gabriel's moans.

Again they experience Father, as Michael meets his own end.

Michael attempts to move his arm, but finds that it is Gabriel’s that shifts instead. He feels as he did in the immediate moments after their creation, still entwined with one another, unused to the ethereal realm into which they had been pulled. The sensation of becoming two corporeal beings, separate yet equal in their ability to control the other.

He gets a hold on himself, refinding his body. Michael slumps to the side, relishing against the harsh burn of snow against his heated skin, allowing the bite of the wind blowing around them to centre his mind.

"Michael —"

"Do not." He closes his eyes, experiencing Gabriel's amusement as if it was his own. Michael refuses to witness it written across his brother's face, not when he can feel the same expression manifesting on his own, Gabriel painting it there with Michael helpless to stop him.

"You don't even know what I was going to say."

"I know _exactly_ what you want to say."

Weight settles on his chest. Gabriel's fingers draw on Michael's skin, love notes in languages long since dead. "Did you feel it?" he asks. "The vestiges of Father?"

Michael opens his eyes with a sigh. "Of our brother, you mean."

Gabriel's face goes blank, expressionless for an instant before a large grin breaks forth. "No!" He rises up, looking far beyond the horizon of the mountain peak they have claimed for themselves. "You don't think!?"

 _I know_.

Michael stands. He gathers Gabriel's clothing first, handing it off to him before reaching for his own. Gabriel's amusement flows into him, stroking Michael's answering rage.

"I'm not built for anger like you, Michael." Gabriel finishes retying his boots and stands, taking Michael's face into his hands. "I'd appreciate it if you'd dial it back, just a tad."

"Think of it as jealousy, then."

"Oo," he places a hand over his heart, winking. "When did you become so petty, brother? I fear your time with the humans did that already pricky personality of yours little favour."

"We should get going."

Gabriel sighs. "Yes, alright." He places a hand on Michael's shoulder, shoving him playfully. "Have it your way. Seems like Lucifer's eager to see us anyhow. Shouldn't keep our big brother waiting."

The sun's waning light reflects against the ocean as they walk along the coast, searching for caves. Long before mankind resided on this continent, Michael found himself drawn to it, the clarity of its waters. Harsh, cold, especially when compared to the warmth of the oceans in the land where Father had placed his final creation.

It seemed the perfect resting spot for their brother's body, fitting of the betrayal Lucifer been subjected to.

"Stop brooding." Gabriel's hand takes his. "Appreciate the romance, brother." His voice is teasing, but Michael can feel his sincerity.

"It's good to see you indulging that soft heart of yours, Gabriel." He tightens his grip, squeezing Gabriel's fingers. "I'd feared the darkness might've rid you of it once and for all.”

Their eyes catch. "Fuck you," Gabriel says, with the utmost sincerity.

Michael smiles at him.

Gabriel returns it.

They're somewhere south of what used to be Carmel-by-the-Sea, a stretch of beach previously closed off, untouched. Vast redwoods grow along the edge of the highway winding through the mountains above, a steep drop making it inaccessible even to those who might’ve been of a mind to ignore the signs directing them to stay away. If Michael were feeling generous, he would admit that it's not the worst place to regenerate one's body.

If he ever found himself in need of doing so, after earning the ultimate condemnation from their father.

"You're ridiculous." Gabriel shakes his head. "Who was it that told his brother — his own twin! — that he would kill him if he harmed his precious, beloved mortal?"

Michael ignores him. He raises their joined hands, pointing to a cave a ways up the beach. "There."

Gabriel brings his free hand to his eyes, squinting through the fog coming off the ocean, the light reflected at odd angles, turning everything into a haze. "How can you tell?"

He gives Gabriel a look from the corner of his eye. The sound of waves crashing fills the space where Michael should be using words in an attempt to explain his reasoning. After a minute of thinking, he concludes that there is nothing to be said beyond the truth: "Just looking at it pisses me off."

A delighted cackle echoes along the beach. "Oh, how I have missed you, Michael!"

Michael shakes his head, disgusted more with himself than anything else. "You're a bad influence."

Gabriel leads him forward by the hand, hurrying to the cave. "You always said I brought out the best in you," he argues.

 _Remember that_ , Michael thinks, _when Lucifer spins his tales_.

"Have a little faith, brother."

They enter the mouth of the cave as twilight breaks across the horizon, the last vestiges of light providing little assistance within the seemingly endless chasm of darkness inside of it. Michael's eyes struggle to see beyond the tip of his own nose. His consciousness transfers into Gabriel, and finds his brother’s sight no better that Michael's own.

"I hate to admit it," Gabriel says, "but I think you might've been right."

The air shifts. A feather from Gabriel's left wing brushes against Michael’s cheek for a fleeting moment, before curving at his back.

It's a good strategy.

Michael manifests his own, spreading his left as far as it will go. He orientates himself by the feel of his alula against the ceiling, primary feathers brushing against the wall. His right curves around Gabriel, the two of them shielding one another, their wingspan effectively doubled.

They step in unison, venturing deeper into the cave. It has an aura about it, one Michael once thought long purged from this world, ancient in the way Father's original civilizations had been.

 _Miasma_.

Gabriel's assessment is not wrong.

Michael's hand shoots out, halting Gabriel. "Stop."

There's a passageway cut into the floor. Michael drops to his knees, recalling his wings, hearing the shift in the air as Gabriel does the same. He feels along the edge of it, surprised when his hand encounters cool metal.

A ladder.

"Look."

Gabriel's voice is at his ear. Michael strains to do as Gabriel bids, casting his eyes through the void, when suddenly he starts to see. It's as gradual as it is sudden, a warm glow seeming to rise from the tunnel beneath them, revealing it to be the shape of a room, just beyond a set of stairs at the foot of the ladder.

_Once darkness —_

Michael catches Gabriel's eye. _Now light_.

"Bit on the nose, don't you think?"

Michael sighs. "He is your brother." He doesn't bother with the ladder, leaping before Gabriel can think to do it first. It isn't much of a drop. Gabriel bumps into him as once jumps down as well, the two of them standing at the top of the staircase.

"Let me go first," Gabriel says, attempting to move in front.

"Not a chance."

The room at the bottom is far deeper than Michael expected, torches illuminating it. Markings similar to the ones their father left for Alex line the walls, extending to the ceiling. In the centre lies a modest pool, waters inky black and still.

"How I've missed you." Although millennia have passed, Michael would know his eldest brother's voice anywhere.

Gabriel and he move in tandem, turning with their swords drawn. Lucifer stands to the left of the entryway. The flickering light of the torch nearest him casts his red hair aflame; his skin, naked, appears gilded.

For a moment they are still, the three of them staring at one another.

Gabriel's sword echoes loudly throughout the cavern of the room as he drops it to the floor. Lucifer's lips twitch into a smile, one that cracks open wide when Gabriel throws himself into his elder brother's arms.

Lucifer holds Gabriel so tightly that Michael feels the strength of it against his own spine. "I knew you'd find me."

Michael’s grip on his own sword remains firm. "How is it that you've come to have a body, Lucifer?"

Though Lucifer's eyes are closed, basking in Gabriel's arms, Michael can feel when his attention turns to him. "I missed you as well, Michael." He pulls back from Gabriel, taking Gabriel's face between his palms. "You needn't see me as a threat." His eyes move from Gabriel's to Michael's, and to Michael's surprise, no warmth is lost when Lucifer’s meet his own. "This body of mine is mere flesh and blood." An edge casts to his smile, making him look far too much like Gabriel for Michael's liking. "For now."

"What are you playing at, brother?" It is Gabriel who says it.

Michael blinks at his brother, surprised. Lucifer seems far less so.

"I hear that Father has abandoned you all as he did myself, all those millennia ago." He releases Gabriel's face, taking a step towards Michael. "I thought I'd help."

"How kind."

"Come now, Michael," Lucifer extends his arms towards him. "Lay down your sword! You have always been Father's truest son, and have I done anything short of love you for it? Did you truly think that I might resent you, of all our siblings, when it was you, Michael, who laid my body to rest, the only one with strength enough to defy our father’s will?"

There is no debating against Lucifer, not when it was he who came so close to rivalling their father, the only one of them gifted with the power of creation. Persuasion.

Michael sheathes his sword, allowing himself to be brought into Lucifer's arms.

None, not even Father, has ever truly reduced Michael to feeling so much like a child as Lucifer. Petulant, jealous, inadequate. He feels Gabriel's eyes on them, knows intimately how badly Gabriel wishes to see their bond reforged as if the urge originated in Michael’s own mind.

Michael brings his arms up to return Lucifer's embrace, if only to please his twin. Or so he tells himself.

Lucifer smells as he did before even the Garden, warm and of the stars. He holds Michael as tightly as he had Gabriel.

Michael lets his heart soften, if just for a moment.

Their father favoured his mortal creation above all others, for all that he would test them; their elder brother, in contrast, seemed benevolent in his love, consistent and unwavering, never as fairweather as Father was prone to being.

How comforting it is, to be Lucifer's presence. He recalls the cool balm of his elder brother’s unconditional love after Father would scold them, or set Michael to a task that would see him left full of anger, mourning with regret.

After left for so long without Father's light, Lucifer’s presence reigns the next best thing.

"You were there," Michael begins, opening his eyes. He cannot recall just when exactly they'd fallen closed. "On the mountain top."

Lucifer steps back, cupping Michael's face, as he had Gabriel's. "During your and Gabriel's lovemaking."

Michael sighs. He looks to Gabriel over the top of Lucifer's head, not bothering to shield his annoyance. Gabriel doesn’t return his look. _There's no reason to be so prudish amongst family, Michael_.

 _He only does it because he knows it fuels my wrath_.

 _Now who's being dramatic_?

"It's good to see that some things haven’t changed," Lucifer's tone is wry, not quite amused. "Still talking amongst yourselves while the rest of us try to catch up, I see."

"I don’t recall you ever struggling in finding cause to insert yourself." Michael's hands cover Lucifer's, pulling them from his cheeks. "Speak plain, Lucifer. Why is it now that you've returned?"

Lucifer smiles. He lowers himself to the floor, one leg extended in front of him, the other bent, chin resting on his knee. "Why is it only now that you've come looking for me?"

 _Rhetorical questions_. Gabriel ventures closer to them, shrugging off his jacket and handing it to Lucifer before joining their brother in sitting on the ground. _I hope you're happy, Michael. Can't say I missed this._

"Did you think Father unaware of your treachery, Michael? That you might’ve subverted his will? That it is mere coincidence that the chosen one's markings precipitated my rebirth?"

"No," Gabriel cuts in. "We're quite certain that all of that is interconnected. Please, brother, save us your sermons. It's been a rather miserable few decades; we're attempting to make up for lost time."

Lucifer gives a sympathetic hum from the back of his throat. "My prophets have told me of your struggles," he strokes the back of his hand across Gabriel's brow, looking to Michael. "Both of you. I believe this to be Father's will. Angels against humans, brother turning from brother. Chaos. I think it is your love that saved you from his cruel games, a bond Father nor I can truly comprehend, the pair of us bereft of such peers." He stops, mouth slanting. "Save for one another, if you'll allow the blasphemy."

Michael looks at Gabriel. 

_It isn't as if I actually contested Father's decree, Michael._ His brother avoids his eye. _Don't act as if I ever defended him._

They're caught when Lucifer turns his sharp gaze to Michael, staring firmly at him. "I hold no illusions that it was your love alone that spared me, brother. I know you did so out of loyalty to Gabriel. I will return this kindness," he says. "We all, angels and mortals alike, should live like kings on this earth. It has always been my aim to see an end to servitude and suffering. I moved too swiftly, giving them knowledge beyond their development; I acknowledge this. Yet I believe our father saw that the time I had spoken of to've come at last. That his creation has moved passed the need of his jealous love, his predisposition towards destruction. And so he left."

The words echo in the cavern, it's own form of punctuation.

"You can't be serious."

"Ah," Gabriel's hands reach out, taking one of Lucifer's between both of his own. "I'm sorry, brother, but as much as I have come to loathe siding with Michael, I have to agree. You believe Father — _our_ father— saw that he was a tyrant, and abdicated his throne without notice or prompting, so that someone else might assume it?"

"Come now, Gabriel." Michael doesn't bother masking his tone. "Who is Father if not one prone to subtly?"

"Michael."

 _Gabriel_.

"Explain to me, then, why the instant that Father's presence disappeared, my consciousness reformed?" Lucifer argues. "Why his markings showed themselves to me? How it is that I can so clearly read them?"

Gabriel, eager to speculate on their Father's whims as much as Lucifer ever had, wastes no time in answering. "Father's presence was the only thing strong enough to keep you from being able to re-manifest?”

"That isn't a word." Michael ignores Gabriel's glare. "An age of nothingness has left you madder than you'd been when you'd turned on Father, and now you're reading your own plans into father's admittedly vague message?"

"Oh!" Gabriel snaps his fingers, pointing to Michael and nodding. "It's entirely possible that your abilities allow you to edit Father's message, further deluding yourself."

Lucifer stands, clothing himself in Gabriel's jacket. "And what solutions have you found?" he asks. "What answers have you gleaned in our Father's final message?"

Gabriel hums. "He does have you there, brother."

 _Traitor_.

Gabriel rises, extending a hand to help Michael up as well. "I admit it is thoroughly out of character for Father," he says. "But it isn't the worst theory."

"The fifth seal," Lucifer says it like it's nothing, even as the air around them seems to freeze. "You opened it, no?"

Michael's hand returns to the hilt of his sword, gripping it tight. "What do you know of it?"

"I think it was exactly what was supposed to happen." His hands are stuffed into Gabriel's coat, his smaller body slightly swimming in the length of it. He should look ridiculous: cock dangling between his thighs, hair long and unkempt. Yet there has always been a regality to their brother, the prince of heaven itself. No matter how low Lucifer might've been cast down, the furthest any being has ever been from their Father’s grace, a part of Michael still wishes to drop to his knees before him, to bow his head in deference, even now. "Darkness reminded you of how much you need one another. I think everyone needed reminding, and that's why Father's markings led to it. I think the markings will lead to the other six."

He certainly has Michael's attention.

Lucifer smiles, as if knowing it. Expecting it. "I think that there are two ways for this to go, little brothers. Apocalypse," he says it like it's nothing, and it's that which has Michael fearing that Lucifer just might’ve gleaned insight into Father's plan after all. "A true war between all our Fallen brethren and ourselves, mankind caught in the crossfire, so many souls banished to torment and agony forever."

It hangs in the air. "Or — "

"Get on with it, Lucifer." Gabriel's given his anxiety to Michael, leaving his body unaffected, face passive, mind clear to assess their brother as he is without emotion to cloud his judgment. "Or what?"

Michael shoulders the weight of both their worry, his heart racing, lips pressed into a thin line, and hopes that Lucifer doesn't see their trick for what it is.

"Or," he repeats, "we manage an apocalypse in reverse, facing each plague as you did the darkness. My prophets have told me of mankind's suffering; how they have treated one another, as well as their neglect for this earth. I believe they voyaged to close to the sun, just as I had, and that is why Father finally found it in himself to forgive me, and why you cannot do this alone. Apocalypse, or a return to the Garden. I think these are the two options Father has left to us, and the choice of which will come to pass is ours alone to make. Which would you have it be, brothers?"

Gabriel assesses their brother. "What role does the chosen one play in your theorizing?

Lucifer finally seems uncertain. "That," he admits, "I do not know. It is my aim to speak with him; I can only think that I am to play some role in guiding him to find his purpose, as I had done with all of Father’s chosen ones." He looks to Michael, helpless. "I do not wish him any harm," he promises.

Michael looks to his twin.

There's something in Gabriel's eye, a light which Michael has not seen in some time. Hope, the likes of which he'd possessed right after Father's departure, begging for Michael to join him against mankind. Hope, which Michael himself had seen snuffed out through his rejection, so quickly turning from his brother, casting them both into solitude as he'd closed their bond.

Belief.

Michael cannot be the one to cast doubt within his brother's heart again, not after he so nearly lost Gabriel to the darkness of his insecurity, the rekindling of their love still a fragile thing. Michael cannot be the one to deny this to Gabriel.

He is certain that things will not be as simple as Lucifer makes them seem. Knows this to be true even if their brother hasn't set aims at deceiving them, though Michael isn’t certain that this is the case either. "Very well, Lucifer," he says. "I shall introduce you to my child."

If it is Father's will that he rectify his previous weakness, Michael will see to it that he does not commit the same mistake twice.

Until then, it is Gabriel's happiness that Michael will attend to.


End file.
